


Masquerade

by wharien



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 00:27:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2088792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wharien/pseuds/wharien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High school AU in which Phil and Dan go to the same school with Phil in Year 12 and Dan Year 10. At the end of the year, for some reason the school decides to have a change, which is to hold a masquerade in an expensive hotel instead of the annual prom at school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note 1: In this fic, Chris and PJ have graduated, and Phil used to hang out with them when they were still in school.
> 
> Note 2: I’m not sure how proms and such work in the UK so I did my best with the research. If there’s anything wrong please tell me so I can fix it!
> 
> I think the story progresses a bit fast but it’s very cheesy imo so let the cheesiness make up for that.

The music is unpleasantly loud, enough for Phil to wince. Not only has the guy who’s in charge of the sound decided it’d be a good idea to play a bunch of bass songs, he also turned the volume up beyond the max level. Now there’s the screaming of people trying to have a conversation mixed with the bass from David Guetta’s Titanium hammering on Phil’s brain. PJ can’t do anything but cover his ears before the music basses the hell out of them.

"WHEN WILL THIS BE OVER??" shouts PJ, even though he’s right next to Phil.

"WHEN WHOEVER’S CONTROLLING THE SOUND GETS TIRED OF IT. I REALLY HOPE THIS DOESN’T TURN OUT TO BE AN EROTIC DANCE PARTY INSTEAD OF A MASQUERADE."

"WAIT, I KNOW WHO IT IS! FOR GOD’S SAKE CHRIS TURN THE FUCKING VOLUME DOWN!!" PJ hails while storming out of the main hall into a room that Phil presumes is the staff room.

PJ’s absence leaves Phil with nothing to do before the ball officially begins. Wandering near the food counter, he busies himself with studying the cakes and scones to make himself appear less awkward, or at least to forget that he’s alone. In front of him is a paradise of delicious pastries; the five giant speakers that are pounding with bass beats over there can be temporarily ignored. Surrounding him is groups of girls in fancy dresses and chatting lively, and of boys all suited up with worried expressions on their faces. No couples, though. Only bunches of girls, and bunches of boys. Once in a while they’ll glance at the curtained stage placed at the end of the massive hall, waiting for the revelation of whatever’s behind it.

This isn’t what usually happens in proms, where boys and girls get together and dance and get high and kiss and make out like there’s no tomorrow. The theory is that the headmaster might somehow have won a lottery and wanted to throw a big prom for the Year 12 students, so rather than squeezing them in the small auditorium, he changed it to a proper masquerade and got a luxury hotel at where to hold the event. He even went as far as to invite the Year 11 kids and some Year 10 ones then hint that there’d be a game involving them. The game will be announced in full details during the masquerade. Until then, hundreds of scholars will remain clueless as to what is about to happen.

Some bass song comes after Titanium for three brief seconds before it’s turned off, and so are the lights in the hall. In a blink of an eye, the entire lobby is pitch black. The only sound is the murmurs of the people, half-surprised, and half-excited. Phil looks around anxiously when PJ still hasn’t returned, his hand playing mindlessly with his mask.

"Goooooooood evening, ladies and gentlemen!"

The music goes up - another bass song of Usher’s. The spotlight appears shortly after the enthusiastic greeting, solely devoted to the man who just appeared on the stage. Immediately the crowd lets out a loud wow at the sight of him. He smiles at the audience as he speaks.

"You guys are on fire tonight, eh? Hello, hello, hello! I am Chris Kendall, as some of you may have seen me on the telly from time to time. Oh and by the way don’t forget to watch me at 7 Saturday nights on BBC One!" Chris quickly adds with a wink. "But yes I’m not here to advertise my own show as I, in fact, have been invited by our lovely headmaster, Mr. Schlitz, to be your host tonight. Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? As you are aware, a masquerade isn’t a masquerade if no one gets to pair up with someone, so here I have one list of all of the Year 12 students, and one box contains the names of all Year 11 students and a few Year 10 students. Each Year 12 student will come up here to pick a name from the box, and there you go, a couple is made! Sounds awesome, doesn’t it?"

The crowd gasps of complete astonishment. Friends turn to each other, asking if they heard Chris correctly.

"Originally only Year 11 students are supposed to be here, but since there are more people in Year 12 than in Year 11 so we got a few from Year 10," continues Chris. "You 10 Year guys are the lucky ones! With no further delay, I’ll start calling names! And remember, it doesn’t matter if you’re a girl and you get another girl! It’s all about having fun and making friends! Genders shouldn’t matter!" From the paper he has in hand, Chris commences the pairing up process. "Kayla Baxter, please step forward and on this stage!"

Some lights are turned on, but rather hazily. The clarity is sufficient to wander around without bumping into anyone, but not to do make-up or anything like that. The girl glides to Chris, puzzled and probably still digesting the information and wishing her partner wouldn’t be some prat. In a corner of the hall is Phil endeavoring to sneak out of the hotel, pretending he has never been in the place. He’s bad at dancing and will most likely upset his partner and embarrass himself, unless they’re his friends, and he doesn’t know anyone from Year 11 or 10. He can compromise with a Year 12, since it’s not their first prom, but it can be quite tricky with the underclassmen. While the people on the stage are receiving every attention they can possibly have for this new “game” of hooking couples up, and every noise is drown in the deafening volume, Phil silently maneuvers through the mass before his name is called.

He almost reaches the door when the song is over. A new one is on and Phil can instantly recognize the familiar intro. It **is** Chris who manages the sound. That’s a goddam Muse song playing right there. Nowadays no one, besides Phil, Chris, and PJ listen to Muse. Actually, only Phil does. Chris and PJ only download two or three songs they like to their computers then delete them when they grow bored. Phil glares at Chris, who gives him a wink in reply. _That bastard._ He’s sure Chris had seen him running away so he told the staff to get a Muse song to hold him back. Chris knows Phil will never leave if Muse is on, that dude…

"Why Muse, **why**?”

Phil startles at the sudden whisper behind him and turns around to see a young boy, almost as tall as him. His face is of a fourteen-year-old, but since fourteen-year-olds aren’t allowed to be here, he must be a Year 10. The light isn’t that bright so Phil can’t make out his face clearly.

"I guess I’ll have to stay for a few more minutes…" The boy sighs.

"Excuse me?" asks Phil, even though he did catch what the boy said. He seems to be a Muse fan, or at least someone who knows what the hell Muse is. Phil isn’t going to miss out the opportunity to befriend him, despite himself.

"I’m sorry?" The boy jumps a bit when someone was able to comprehend his mumbling and chose to start a conversation.

"What did you just say, about Muse?"

"Oh um I was about to quietly shuffle away from this masquerade until the naming’s over because I don’t really want to make a clown out of myself dancing with people I’m not close with but then a bloody Muse song appears! It’s a sin to walk out in the middle of a Muse song!" He groans, making hand gestures throughout the whole time he’s talking. The boy then ends with his arms crossed across his chest and an angry humph.

"Me too! My friend who’s in this masquerade crew did that on purpose. I don’t want to get involved and he doesn’t want me to do so. That’s why he switched the music to Muse! Evil friend!" Phil’s undoubtedly thrilled, of finding out that the boy’s suffering from a similar crisis as his and apparently a very committed fan of Muse.

"Yeah! What kind of friend would take advantage of their friend’s god to manipulate them? You need to re-educate your friend, um…"

"Phil."

"You need to re-educate your friend, Phil! He’s lacking a considerable amount of humanity! I honestly am dead if someone gets me, which might happen any minute now, but I can’t force myself to abandon Muse!"

Phil can’t help but burst out laughing at the boy’s comical blurting. Yeah, he’s for sure a hardcore Muse fan to have that passionate of a reaction. And he has a great sense of humor, too. Phil finds the way he talks captivating, and extremely pleasing to the ear. He’s figuring out how to answer the boy when his name is summoned.

"Phiiiiiiiilip Lester! On board you go!" Chris howls as menacingly as he can, making it somehow an if-you-don’t-get-your-arse-up-here-I-shall-split-it-in-two-and-if-you-run-away-your-nudes-will-be-everywhere warning.

All eyes are set on Phil and he at once forgets that he’s talking to someone. He’s not used to being at the center of the universe like he is now. He never was. The eyes, they’re just looking, not doing anything, yet his forehead is already wet with perspiration. His hands won’t stop shaking and his heart races like it’s on a roller coaster ride. His feet are as stiff as concrete and his legs unable to support his upper body. His mind goes on a merry-go-round with bloody zombie horses and horror music in the background. The only thing he can see is eyes. Lots of eyes. Blue eyes. Brown eyes. Green eyes. Black eyes. Faces are fading. Bodies are vanishing. No one has a face or even a body anymore. Merely eyes. Floating. Gluing to him. Staring at him. Perhaps judging him. Perhaps thinking he’s an emo. Perhaps wondering if he has tons of My Chemical Romance posters in his bedroom. Perhaps assuming he has seven ear piercings on each ear under his hair. Perhaps guessing he puts on make-up at home. Perhaps betting on how many colors he would dye his hair when he’s not in school. Perhaps-

"Hey, you okay? It’s your turn."

The boy elbows Phil from behind after his several minutes of standing and sweating like mad. Phil jolts and looks around again. People are still staring. He swallows.

"Y-Yeah…"

Phil licks his lips nervously then (sort of) limps to the stage, on which Chris is standing grinning like Cheshire Cat. Approaching the huge box full of names, Phil closes his eyes and dips one hand in. His fingers rustle the papers for a while before finally dragging out a piece, thinking he might have dampened everything with his sweat. He opens one eye, peeking at the piece of paper. It’s folded. Good. He’s not ready to know with whom he’s going to dance. Yet. He’s currently occupied with an overflowing amount of questions that soon will spill out of his head. Is it a boy? Is it a girl? Is it someone he knows? Is it a Year 11? A Year 10? Year 12? Is it a nice person? Or a total dickhead? What if they have an attitude? What if they make fun of him? What if they don’t want to dance with him? No the true question here is how to begin? _Hi I’m Phil we’ve never met before but let’s dance anyway?_

"Oh give that to me will you!"

Chris snaps the paper from Phil, knowing that the guy will take the whole night to gather up the nerve to open it. He unfolds the paper as he brings the mic up and Phil swears he has never witnessed Chris enunciating a name like that in his entire life and it’s…. beautiful.

"Year 10, **Daniel Howell**. I repeat, Year 10, **Daniel Howell**.”

The crowd loses control for a moment trying to find said boy in a sea of people. There’s only a handful of Year 10 students in the midst of about four hundred other students in this hall. It ought to take some time.

Phil stands under the spotlight, hoping whoever this Daniel Howell is will show up soon, because he doesn’t know how much he can endure this torturous procedure. Even though he has to admit that when Chris said the name it did, oddly, calm him down. Not a lot, but sufficient to keep him sane. He has no idea what this person is like but Daniel is a lovely name, and people with lovely names are generally lovely as well. PJ also said he hangs out with those 10 Year kids a lot, and they’re overall super fun and cool; Daniel should be a decent kid. Besides, the Year 10’s here are selected based on their academic achievements, so there’s a high chance that this the boy isn’t a giant ass. Well, hopefully.

Immersed in his reasoning, Phil fails to notice that three minutes have passed and the search for Daniel Howell is still going on.

"Last call, is Daniel Howell here? Daniel James Howell, Year 10? Please reply if you are," says Chris.

"I’m here!" A voice surfaces from the rowdy mass. "Sorry! It’s hard to move around when everyone’s basically a moving obstacle that can emerge from any direction, you know?"

Coming out is a boy, a young boy, with dark brown hair and a petite figure. Black trousers, a black blazer worn outside of a white shirt, a red bowtie and a small rose pinned on the breast pocket. It’s a plain suit, but that doesn’t make the boy any less of an eye candy. On the contrary, the simplicity goes well with his shy smile and that vaguely visible dimple. Like the supposedly ordinary portrait of the ordinary Mona Lisa yet implied in it were a strange fineness and an irresistible charm.

The boy lifts his head up and draws closer to Phil, whose eyes are now widened in awe. Flashing an awkward grin, he scratches his head as he introduces himself.

_"As delicate as a jasmine._

_As soft as a pianissimo note._

_And as adorable as the world’s friendliest bear, Winnie the Pooh._

_That was Daniel James Howell.”_

_\- from the diary of Phil Lester_


	2. Chapter 2

_The boy moves to in front of the platform but doesn’t go up. One of his hands stays on his head, scratching slightly, and the other is held out to Phil._

_"Small world, isn’t it? Hello fellow Muse fan, I’m Dan."_

* * *

After a few more pairs Chris gets rather tired by how long it takes for people to come and get the names, so he calls multiple students up at once to speed up the process. Somehow if you look at it without context, it’s kind of like a human lottery. Twenty minutes pass and finally everyone has a partner to spend the night with. Chris (unsurprisingly) grabs PJ and sticks with him for the next three hours. The music changes to a classic piece for couples to slow dance to. Some hands rest on waists, some on shoulders. Bodies gently swing back and forth to the calming beat. Heads heave rhythmically like waves.

Dan and Phil stand leaning on the wall, observing the ocean of humans. Phil grasps the tie of his mask, not knowing how to react. The Muse fan whom he just met a few minutes ago is now his partner for the night. The boy whose name unexpectedly relieved his stress. The boy with the sweetest face and most endearing smile. The boy who made him laugh ten seconds after they met. He’s merely a stranger, yet he provokes such a sudden attachment that Phil isn’t able to comprehend. Phil elbows the boy, as if asking what to do. The boy inclines his head as it bumps slightly against Phil’s shoulders. Phil looks at him reflexively.

"So, let’s… dance, I guess?" Dan suggests, his voice uncertain and his lips pursed and Phil won’t deny he’s fighting the crazy urge to jump at Dan and hug him tight and tell him he’s just the cutest thing on earth right now. His brown eyes sparkle under the lights like gems so rare and magnificent that the greediest hunter would never have the heart to sell.

Taking Dan’s hand, Phil feels more confident as he puts his on Dan’s waist, causing the boy to jolt a bit. Phil lowers his head and whispers into Dan’s ear.

"Do you know how to dance?"

Dan shivers briefly at the hot breath that’s tickling his neck. He coughs to shake the heat that’s rushing up his neck away.

"Um, yeah… A bit. And would you please not um… do that? On my neck… it feels weird…" mumbles Dan. _Why is it weird why am I embarrassed why is my heart racing what the hell is this sensation?!_

"Oh, sure! Sorry! Since everyone’s quiet I don’t want to speak too loudly." Phil says, still with a low volume, this time with his mouth moved up to Dan’s cheek.

Phil is so close Dan can even vaguely make out the texture of his lips. Soft and smooth. How kissable.

"O-Oh. That’s fine, I guess." Dan replies, tilting his head away from Phil pretending to flip his bangs back to the side.

 _This guy knows no personal space!!_ Dan screams on the inside while putting on a chill mien. He doesn’t know why he’s mad. It’s not like they have any other way to communicate. Phil has every reason to do… the thing, but it’s just… ARGH HOW TO EXPLAIN. Like, it’s both right and not right at the same time. Dan wants Phil to stop teasing him with his goddam lips and low voice and hot breath yet he’s also eager to experience the stimulation they can bring.

"Dan? Dan?" Phil calls, gripping Dan’s hand hard. "If you don’t want to dance that’s fine…"

"Ah, no, sorry I’m perfectly ok." Dan snaps out of his fantasy. "Dance, yes, dance. Yes, let’s dance…"

Phil smiles warmly at the flustered boy and Dan has to thank his tan skin that hide his forever reddening cheeks. Dan looks down at the ground as his body moves forcefully to Phil’s lead. It’d be a lie if Dan weren’t edgy. He dare not speak. The ghost of those lips still haunts Dan, creeping along his veins and tingling on his neck. Dan chews on his lips unconsciously as tension builds up from the silence between him and Phil. Maybe he should start a conversation. But does he talk too much for someone one just met? Did he overplay that cool act and turn himself into an insolent prick? Was he rude as a Year Ten to a Year Twelve? But Phil looked so nice and friendly he couldn’t help it. And it was Phil who started talking to him first. If it were anyone’s fault a part of it would be Phil’s. Speaking of Phil…

Dan looks up at Phil when Phil at the same time looks down and immediately one is drawn to the other’s eyes. Time stops ticking like how they are both holding their breath. That shade of brown is that of the perfect hot cocoa you’ll need for a freezing winter day, and it’s like you’re floating among the clouds in the summer sky that rests within those blue eyes. Suddenly, brown and blue aren’t simply colors anymore. They carry cryptic meanings and symbols that not everyone can decipher. Brown for soil and dirt, the rawness; for diamonds and ambers, the extraordinary ordinary. Blue for seas and rivers, the wilderness; for roses and nourishment, the imaginary beauty.

They stand, one admiring the other, both wondering if the treasure they’re having the honour to contemplate has been discovered by anyone else. The music is loud but they’re deafened by the beating of their hearts. All Phil needs to do is dive into those eyes and enjoy the most loving warmth. All Dan needs to do is fly into those eyes and be as free as he wishes. And then maybe Phil will know the answer to the unsolved puzzle of his life and Dan won’t be that lonely piece trying to find where he belongs anymore. They will finally be complete.

"Hey Dan, do you believe in love at first sight?" Phil breaks the silence as he kindly asks.

"My mum said that’s a lie." Dan answers with a mischievous smirk.

"What about you?" Dropping his head, Phil lets the tip of his nose touch Dan’s.

"Well, I didn’t. But I might now," says Dan. He grins and moves his hand on Phil’s shoulder to his neck, giving him a loose hug. "You know what Terry Pratchett said. ‘You need to believe in things that aren’t true. How else-‘"

”’-can they become?’” continues Phil. “From _Hogfather_ , correct?”

"Impressive. That’s a good start for a friendship, don’t you think?" Dan can sense Phil’s breath mixing with his own, their lips touching ephemerally as they speak.

"Yeah. But I’m aiming for more than that." Phil retreats and taps Dan’s nose.

"Hey don’t do that! I’m not a kid!" Dan pouts.

He glares at a beaming Phil and decides to have his revenge by standing on tiptoe and biting Phil’s cheek with his lips. Phil is taken aback before he bursts out laughing, patting Dan on the head.

"Oh, Dan. You _are_ a kid.”

_"The world didn’t seem to make sense that night._

_I don’t think it ever did, anyway._

_Nor does this love.”_

_-from the diary of Dan Howell._


End file.
